In West Bengal, four villages are preserving a culture of generations-old indigenous boat races

Some 70 people from his village in Dongajora, have travelled on boats up north to the creeks and rivers a few hours from Kolkata where the races are being held. Amin’s racing boat, 60 feet long-three feet wide, called sarki in the local dialect, accommodates 22 people. The others who have o have travelled with him, men, all men and teenage boys, will help the team with logistical support, including cheering for them and cooking their meals.

Ruhul Amin on his boat (red t-shirt), just before his crew leaves the shore to prepare for the day’s races in Malancha village, West Bengal, India. (Express photo by Neha Banka)

For the days that the participating boats travel for the races, they are accompanied by what is called a ‘follow boat’ or the ‘dongi’ in Bengali, a larger vessel inside which the men live and spend their time outside the races, till they return home to their villages. “It takes us eight to ten hours to travel upstream for these competitions, but it takes us less time to return home, because in the process of racing, we keep moving from one village to another, closer downstream,” says Amin.

In these races, it is common to see boatmen from far-away villages, travelling for hours on their vessels through the rivers and creeks of southern Bengal to participate in these annual competitions.

The dance of boats and snakes

In Bengali, the races go by names like “baich khela” or “nouka baich”, a term that comes from the movement of the boats on the water, with the word “baich” describing the act of rowing a boat. The origins of the term “baich” may also come from the gathering of a large number of boats in one area for this purpose, says Swarup Bhattacharyya, who has conducted extensive research on the history of indigenous boats in the Bengal region. 

The races occur in the month of September across riverine Bengal, when the river waters are swollen during the last weeks of the monsoons, and the paddy crop has already been sowed, leaving villagers with time on their hands to pursue recreational sports like rowing and boat racing.

“Boat races are essentially a fertility cult,” says Bhattacharyya, pointing to the practice of socio-religious rites in agricultural societies where specific rituals are performed to pray for bountiful harvests. These boat races in southern West Bengal are particularly linked with the worship of the Hindu deity Manasa, the goddess of snakes. “The worship of Manasa is the worship of snakes. And the local deity most commonly worshipped in rural south Bengal is Manasa, a deity worshipped by agrarian communities.”

During the month of September in this region, Manasa is annually worshipped on a particular date following the lunar calendar. When it is time to bid good to the goddess, villagers immerse the deity’s idol in rural water bodies and simultaneously hold boat races. 

“I believe that the boats represent snakes. As the deity is being immersed, the snakes—the boats—are playing in the water; an act that symbolises mating. It symbolises fertility,” says Bhattacharyya.

Rituals of Bengal’s boat racing

Ritualistic boat racing has continued to exist in several parts of the world, particularly in South Asia and Southeast Asia. In India, Kerala hosts traditional boat races that coincide with the harvest festival of Onam, held during August and September, and called snake boat races or Vallam Kali.

One of the participating teams wait for the day’s races to start in Malancha, West Bengal, India. (Express photo by Neha Banka)

In China, the Dragon Boat Festival is held annually during the fifth month of the Chinese lunar calendar, especially in the Yangtze River region. While the festival’s practices vary from region to region, some common features include a memorial ceremony offering sacrifices to a local hero, combined with sporting events such as ‘dragon races’ and ‘dragon boating’.

Vietnam marks Tết Đoan Ngọ in the fifth month of the lunar calendar, following folklore that can be traced to China, where the festival commemorates the death of poet Qu Yuan, who drowned himself in a river. Vietnamese folklore says locals raced in boats to retrieve the poet’s body and threw rice dumplings into the water to prevent fish from devouring his remains. Over time, this folklore was interpreted across regions in Southeast Asia, where the festival was subsequently adapted to include an element of boat racing.

Between September and November, Cambodia, Thailand, Myanmar and Bangladesh also hold boat racing festivals that have origins in folklore with common themes, featuring long boats that symbolise snakes.

On the  Bidyadhari river, away from the crowds, just before the boats are dispatched to line up for the races, the owner of the boat performs a ritual: at the head of the boat, he applies a smear of vermillion powder, pours some ceremonial milk, offers incense sticks and flowers, followed by the utterance of what appears almost be a war cry: ‘joy jatra e jao’; ‘go on, onto a journey of victory’. These practices indicate that the boat races in this region may have originated in the naval exercises for warships when large wooden boats were used for ancient warfare. 

Remnants of ritualistic offerings from a ceremony performed by boat owners just before the boat starts its journey for the day. (Express photo by Neha Banka)

There is no written documentation that identifies when these races first started in southern West Bengal, says Bhattacharyya. Debashish Chatterjee grew up in Malancha village, watching the races every year of his life and is now a part of the village committee that organises them. “Nobody knows how long these races have been held in our villages, but we do know that it has been happening for several generations.”

Organising these races is a complex task: they attract hundreds of thousands of people from nearby villages, with spectators travelling for hours to watch the boats furiously glide through the waters, covering stretches of the Bidyadhari river within seconds. On the day the races were held in the river near Malancha, the village’s community leaders estimated crowds of over 300,000 people, making the safety of spectators and participants important.In southern West Bengal, for a few years now, these races have been concentrated in four villages — Ghusighata, Kanmari, Nazat and Malancha. “The races in Malancha are the oldest, from what we have heard. They later spread to Ghusighata, Kanmari and Nazat,” says Chatterjee. Every village hosting the races is responsible for making necessary arrangements and for collecting donations from villagers that are put together to create a trophy and some cash — several thousand rupees — for the boats that come in the first place, a process that takes the community leaders in the village close to three months.

Preserving Bengal’s oldest boat races

The rain shows no signs of stopping in Malancha, but that has not discouraged the crowds, many of whom have travelled from villages several hours away to watch the races. In one alcove away from the line of sight of most spectators on both sides of the river, the participating boats gently bob on the waters, waiting for instructions from the watch boats hovering nearby.

“It is a lot of work. In addition to the racing boats, we also have to arrange watch boats and police boats in the water to monitor the races,” Chatterjee says.

Participants wait in their boats in the Bidyadhari river for instructions. Nearby, two monitor boats with judges and local police keep close watch. (Express photo by Neha Banka)

Just as the blow horn signals the start of the races, crowds on both banks of the river have swelled and a mass of people have gathered on the Malancha bridge above the water, to get a better view, leaving not an inch of space as they jostle to see the boats gliding over the water.

But the crowds are still less in number than what Chatterjee remembers watching growing up in the village. Over the years, the local government and police have begun controlling crowds for public safety, regardless of the weather.

For years, the four villages have followed a fixed set of dates in September when each hosts the races, allowing the boats to participate in multiple races spread over days. Weeks before the races are about to start, volunteers travel from village to village, announcing the dates of the races and distributing flyers, urging people to attend.

The crowds on the banks of the Bidyadhari river in Malancha village on the day of the races. The river bank and the bridge above are fully packed with spectators hoping to catch a glimpse of the racing boats. (Express photo by Neha Banka)

On the day of the race, the relatively quiet Malancha village is bustling with crowds and loudspeakers, with a fair-like atmosphere. The races also mean a day of good business for local vendors who take advantage of the crowds to sell local ice lollies, snacks, fruit and toys.

Some spectators have hired their own boats to catch the races from up close—right on the river, much to the consternation of the village committee monitoring the races.

In the pouring rain, on the boat monitoring the races, Dipak Das, a community leader, shouts at his team to ensure they are doing their jobs well, following rules for monitoring the participating boats. Boat races here are a serious business, and the participants are sensitive about the monitors accurately noting who crosses the finish line. Occasionally, Das and his colleagues find themselves shouting at the spectator boats as well to clear the way, when they catch them come in dangerous proximity to the racing boats, potentially interrupting the speed of the participants.

Monitors of the boat race in Malancha discuss scores in the pouring rain on board their monitor boats on the Bidyadhari river. Boat racing is serious business in this region. (Express photo by Neha Banka)

Joydeb Das lives in Uchildaha village, approximately 25 minutes away, but is a regular at the races. A fisherman by profession, a few years ago, Malancha village’s organising committee gave him the responsibility of rowing the watchboat that allows monitors to observe the races. Emotions among participants and the judges tend to run high during the races, Das says with a smile, having been now accustomed to the stress that the judges find themselves under on the day of the race.

“Fewer people have turned up this year because of the heavy rains today. You can say that these races are important to us because they are a part of our villages’ culture. But the younger generation doesn’t want to do this anymore,” Das says, steering the boat on the river using all his strength, a task made difficult because of the rains.

Joydeb Das, a seasoned boatman, photographed with his vessel on the banks of the Bidyadhari river in Malancha village in West Bengal. (Express photo by Neha Banka)

Rowing these boats is hard work and time-consuming, with little pay in return. Das’ nephew Rahul has come on board the boat to help his uncle with the technicalities of steering because it is not a job that a single boatman can do. “I have no interest in learning this. Several of my friends’ fathers are boatmen but my friends have no interest in it either,” says the 20-year-old. As a mechanic in a nearby town, he earns more money with less physical effort.

In Malancha this year, only five boats participated in the day-long races. Chatterjee recalls a higher number of participants in previous years, from anywhere between 12 to 15. “These races are very expensive to attend for the boatmen so we see fewer boats and participants. The prize money is also not sufficient to distribute among all participants,” he says. 

During a pause in the races, participants on one of the competing boats rest for a few minutes. Behind them is the larger “follow boat” that travelled with them from their villages for the duration of the races. These follow boats provide boatmen a place to sleep, eat and hold provisions for their other necessities. (Express photo by Neha Banka)

There are many expenditures that participating boatmen have to incur from their own pocket: Every long boat is accompanied by a larger follow boat, where the participants essentially live when they are away from their villages for the races. These boats are equipped with everything they need, from food to cooking equipment to other necessities.

“The food costs money, and the maintenance of these boats is expensive. The wood used to make racing boats is unique and the construction process also costs a lot of money. The gab fruit (Diospyros malabarica), whose extracts are used to make gum for waterproofing the boats, is also expensive,” he says. The financial returns from these boats aren’t sufficient for boatmen to consider leaving their fishing and spending days away up north in creeks and rivers.

A few metres away from the monitor boats, just as dusk falls and the last race has been completed, a chhot—a local wooden boat found in the Bengal region—sails close to the banks of the river, with an idol of Manasa wrapped in a sheet of plastic. Young boys dance to Bengali pop music as the boat twists and turns across the water, the boys engaging in the last bit of merriment before the deity is immersed in the waters of the Bidyadhari.

“Just as dusk falls and the last race has been completed, a chhot—a local wooden boat found in the Bengal region—sails close to the banks of the river, with an idol of Manasa wrapped in a sheet of plastic. Young boys dance to pop music as the boat twists and turns across the water, engaging in the last bit of merriment before the deity is immersed into the waters of the Bidyadhari.” (Express photo by Neha Banka)

Despite the growing costs and relatively less financial returns, there are some boatmen who are obsessed with these races and find themselves drawn to the waters of the Bidyadhari river every September, says Chatterjee.

However, with the younger generation in the villages finding little incentive to participate in these physically challenging sporting events and the training required to row these boats, the number of boat races in South Bengal may decrease every year.

“But this is a part of our village’s heritage, and we have to continue it. It brings everyone from villages together for some time.”